A Dream Come True (12 page)

However she held her tongue and took the glass of claret he offered her.

Lord Winterton's whole manner had changed and he seemed somehow more approachable. His face was etched with concern and his eyes full of compassion.

“I have decided,” he said suddenly. “We shall also dedicate the monument to your father's memory and I am certain that the new Duke will not object. He is a kind man and very compassionate as was his own father.”

“You would do this for me?” she asked in wonder. She looked into his piercing blue eyes and his warm expression touched her heart deeply. She was seeing him in a new light for the first time.

“For you and your Mama,” he replied. “My dear father was fortunate enough to die in his own bed with his family all around him. The least I can do is to raise a lasting monument to honour your father's memory.”

“Th-thank you,” breathed Lucia. “I do not know how to thank you.”

“You can work extra hard for me and that will be enough,” he said gently laying his warm hand on hers.

Lucia did not resist. It felt so comforting and protective.

She looked up him and, for one split second, she thought she saw him lean slightly towards her, as if approaching for a kiss.

In the heat of the moment she did not want to resist and she waited for his lips to alight upon hers.

But with a slight intake of breath Lord Winterton moved away and rose from the table.

Lucia felt a lurching sensation in her stomach as the disappointment stung her heart.

‘I would not have resisted,' she told herself incredulously. ‘I would not have resisted.'

Her head was still reeling when she finally took her leave and returned to her room. She stared at the ceiling long into the night, trying to calm her whirling mind.

‘Why does he affect me so?' she thought, desperately trying to turn her thoughts to her mother. ‘I am not certain that I care to feel like this.'

*

The rest of the week soon passed for Lucia. She asked permission to use the telephone to check on her mother's progress and was told by Lord Winterton that she could use it whenever she wished.

The news from home was always very much the same – no change.

They began to work on the ceremony for the unveiling of the monument.

First she had to telephone the stonemason to advise him of the changes to be made to his original design, and then, she had to draw up a list of dignitaries to attend the event.

Lord Winterton was quiet and reserved with her all week, disappearing every so often without prior notice and reappearing just as suddenly.

“His work often takes him to London,” Jepson told her, when she asked one Friday afternoon where his Lordship might be. “I never know when to expect him.”

“That's a pity. I was hoping to see him before I left for the weekend. However, I shall leave him a note so that he will know what I have done so far.”

“Very well, Miss Mountford. At what time shall I have the motor car brought round to the front for you?”

“Five o'clock please, Jepson, and thank you for helping me through my first week. It has been – an interesting experience.”

“Oh, life is never dull when his Lordship is at home,” said Jepson with a smile.

Lucia knew that he was referring to Lady Shelley. She had not made another appearance, although at every meal Lucia half expected her to sweep into the room in a cloud of heavy perfume, demanding to see Lord Winterton alone.

She was surprised how she felt to be leaving the Manor later that afternoon.

She climbed into Lord Winterton's Talbot and, even though she was looking forward to seeing her mother again, she was hit by a pang of sadness.

The journey was brief and pleasant and by the time she arrived back at Bingham Hall, it was just getting dark.

“Lucia!”

She looked up to see her stepfather coming towards her and to her surprise he had a broad smile on his face.

“Lord Winterton is delighted with you,” he said as he led her inside. “I have already had a letter from him singing your praises. At this rate, I would not be surprised if the wedding announcement is made before the six months are out. Well done, Lucia. I must admit, I was concerned that you would not be suitable, but he has allayed my fears. Champion work!”

He patted her on the shoulder and walked off with a spring in his step.

‘No doubt he is also thrilled to have received a cheque for twenty-five thousand pounds,' growled Lucia as she waited for Moston to bring in her case.

As he came towards her, she idly followed him up the stairs, wondering if she should go straight to her mother's room or change first.

But before she could make that decision, Mrs. Darrowby came flying down the stairs towards her and almost knocked her down.

“Miss Lucia. I am so pleased to see you,” she cried.

There was something about her expression that alarmed Lucia.

“It's your Mama,” she continued. “She has taken a turn for the worse and I fear she is gravely ill. I will send for the doctor, but she cannot be left alone. Will you go to her at once?”

Lucia ran upstairs and into her mother's room and noticed the odour of Friar's Balsam hanging heavy in the air.

She could hear her mother's laboured breathing.

“Lucia, is that you?” she called feebly.

“Yes, Mama, I am here. Mrs. Darrowby has gone to fetch the doctor.”

“Doctor Glossop?”

“No, Mama. Doctor Maybury will come quickly whereas Doctor Glossop may not be able to reach here until the morning.”

She wheezed and coughed and how it pained Lucia to see her so ill.

As she waited for Mrs. Darrowby, Moston appeared with a letter on a tray.

“I am sorry, miss, but this came today and the messenger said it was urgent.”

Lucia took the letter and immediately recognised the handwriting.

‘Edward – ' she whispered to herself. ‘I had quite forgotten that he asked for an answer by tomorrow. Oh, what does he want now?'

She opened it and read quickly,

“My dearest, I hope you have not forgotten your promise to give me an answer to my proposal. With this in mind, I would ask if I might call on you tomorrow afternoon. Please telephone me at Greensides, my country home, in the morning.

Yours, Edward.”

‘So he is coming up from London,' she murmured.

At that moment, her mother let out a low groan. Mrs.

Darrowby came rushing back into the room with her eyes staring.

“Is she all right, miss? The doctor will be here soon. I have asked him to hurry.”

As Mrs. Darrowby bustled around the room, she moved closer to her mother and took her hand. She coughed again and Lucia gave her a drink.

“The doctor is on his way, Mama,” she told her soothingly. “And I am here.”

As her mother lay there breathing hard, Lucia prayed with all her might that the doctor would arrive before it was too late.

‘Oh, Mama. Do not die,' she begged holding her hand tightly. ‘Papa, if you have any influence in Heaven, don't let the Lord take her, please!'

Lucia sat by her mother's bedside table, waiting for Doctor Maybury.

When eight o'clock arrived, Mrs. Darrowby brought her a tray of sandwiches and tea.

“Thank you so much. Is there still no sign of Doctor Maybury? Mama is getting restless as she thinks he's not coming.”

“Even the Master is pacing up and down the hall, miss! I shouldn't want to be in Doctor Maybury's shoes when he does finally turn up!”

Lucia was relieved that Sir Arthur appeared at last to be showing some outward signs of concern for her mother.

Eventually, at half-past eight, they heard the front door bell ring and Moston brought Doctor Maybury upstairs.

The old man doddered through the door with his glasses perched on the end of his nose and a black bag in his hand.

Lucia thought he looked as if he was in need of medical attention himself.

“Now, now, Lady Mountford,” he began, as he had obviously forgotten her remarriage. “What is the trouble?”

“Mama is finding it difficult to breathe and her cough is terrible!” intervened Lucia before her mother could speak.

Doctor Maybury examined her and dithered round her bed.

Lucia had the distinct feeling that the reason for his lateness was because he had waited until after his dinner. She could quite clearly see recent soup stains on his waistcoat.

‘I doubt if he can find his own mouth, so how can we expect him to cure Mama?' she thought as she watched his hand shaking.

“Hmm, her temperature appears to be somewhat higher,” he muttered, as he looked at the thermometer. “And she is having more difficulty breathing.”

‘Heavens,' thought Lucia becoming annoyed. ‘I have already told him that and I am not a doctor!'

“What can you give her to help her rest more easily?” she asked as calmly as she could.

“I have some linctus in my bag that may help. It is stronger than the last one I gave her.”

He opened his bag and pulled out a brown bottle. He set it down on the bedside table and immediately Lucia picked it up and examined the label.

Satisfied that it was a fairly innocuous blend that could be bought in any village shop, she asked Mrs. Darrowby to fetch a glass of hot water.

“Doctor Glossop always used to say it does far more good if you mix cough medicine in hot water – do you remember, Mrs. Darrowby?”

She nodded with a complicit smile and Lucia knew that she shared her belief that Doctor Maybury was an old fool who should retire.

“I shall go now, Lady Mountford,” bellowed Doctor Maybury, who was a little deaf as well as unsteady on his feet. “I will speak to your husband and advise him further. Good night.”

He left the room and Lucia heard the sound of voices in the hall but, even though Doctor Maybury was speaking loudly, she could not quite hear what he said.

As soon as she heard the front door close, she ran downstairs.

“Stepfather,” she called. “What did he say?”

He wore a grave expression and an icy shot of fear gripped her heart.

“I am afraid we must prepare ourselves for the worst,” he said solemnly. “Doctor Maybury says he does not think he can do a great deal more for her.”

“No! No!” cried Lucia, throwing her hands up to her pale face. “It cannot be.”

“I have thought it through and there is only one course of action,” added Sir Arthur. “Although I am now in receipt of the money from Lord Winterton, nearly all of it has been swallowed up paying our creditors. I know that he is acquainted with a brilliant chest specialist from Switzerland who may be able to help.”

“Then we must ask him how to contact him at once,” exclaimed Lucia.

“He will not be cheap, Lucia. I'm not certain that we have the money to pay for him.”

“But you must! You must! You cannot let her – die!”

“I shall think it through,” answered Sir Arthur. “I care a great deal for your Mama and I do not intend to lose her so soon after our wedding.”

“I will ask Lord Winterton if he will help us. You said that he was delighted with how I performed my duties and he has just said that I should be prepared to work long hours on a new project. Perhaps he would lend us the money to pay for the Swiss doctor if I offer to work at weekends.”

“I don't think he would deny you anything. He seems very impressed with you.”

Lucia bade him goodnight and returned to her mother's side and sat up all night and even found herself nodding off. She appeared to be breathing more easily and coughing less.

‘Perhaps the medicine will work after all,' thought Lucia.

The clock in the hall struck half-past five and she knew that soon the servants would be up and about. She stretched out and checked her mother once again.

‘Still peaceful,' she whispered and arose to ring for Mrs. Darrowby.

It had utterly escaped her mind that Edward would be visiting later that day to obtain her answer to his proposal.

*

Lucia could barely keep her eyes open by the time Mrs. Darrowby arrived.

“I”ll take over now, miss. You look as if you are dead on your feet.”

“Would you ask Mary-Anne to wake me up for a late luncheon?” she said, concealing a yawn with her hand.

As soon as she laid her head on the pillow, she fell into a deep sleep. In fact when Mary-Anne came to wake her some hours later, she felt as if she had only just dropped off.

“Is it time for luncheon already?” she asked sleepily.

“Well, no, miss – ” answered Mary-Anne haltingly.

“Then, why on earth have you woken me?”

Lucia felt more than a little grumpy. She was exhausted from sitting up with her mother all night.

“Mr. de Redcliffe is downstairs waiting to see you. I told him that you were asleep, but he was terribly insistent. He would not take no for an answer and said that you were expecting him. He became quite cross with me, he did.”

It was then that Lucia remembered her promise to him.

“He is quite correct – he does have an appointment to see me. I had just forgotten. Will you go downstairs and ask him if he would not mind waiting? I shall not be long.”

Mary-Anne put down the fresh pile of underclothes on the bed and left the room immediately.

‘Oh, goodness! I wish I had had the presence of mind to telephone him at Greensides last night to put off his visit,' she thought, ‘I am too tired to have to explain myself.'

It was only half-past eleven and Lucia wondered if she would be able to be rid of him before luncheon.

Ten minutes later, she walked into the drawing room and she thought that Edward looked rather pale too and wondered if it was the result of a sleepless night.

“Lucia!” he cried, moving quickly towards her.

She allowed him to kiss her hand and then quickly withdrew it.